


I'm Your Biggest Fan

by LadyAJ_13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, I always make Bucky work in a coffee shop, M/M, Steve is an actor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes has been Steve Rogers' number one fan since he first appeared on 'Take Two', aged 12. Now Clint's wangled meet and greet tickets for the two of them, but its not so easy to step from fantasy to reality...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's part 1! The story is already written, just needs editing and proofing, so I expect to get the rest of the chapters up in the next couple of days. Hope you like it!

Bucky Barnes is the same age as Steve Rogers. That thought has always warmed him; they're the same, they're on a level. Really. If things had been different, they might have been friends. Okay, so sure, in reality Bucky is one hundred and sixty three days older than Steve, but they'd have been in the same school year. And that's all that really matters. They'd have had the same teachers, the same homework. Bucky used to wile away math lessons with Mrs Cast by imagining that Steve would transfer, and he'd be given the empty seat next to Bucky, and Bucky would offer to show him to his next class and that would be it. They'd be best friends for life.

But Steve had never transferred, and now neither of them are school age any more, so the fantasies have changed accordingly. Now he sees Steve entering the bakery where he works part time, Bucky asks how he can help and Steve grins, and its easy and Steve is funny, and miraculously Bucky doesn't say anything stupid – before he knows it, he's wiped down all the tables without realising it and Jane, the bakery owner, is stripping him of his apron and sending him home. “Are you okay, Bucky? You've been a bit out of it.”

Or maybe Steve would enrol on campus – there's nothing online about him taking classes, but that's the kind of thing he might keep on the down low, and Bucky is sure that Steve is smart. There are enough pictures of him reading on set to vouch for that. He might be crossing the quad in a baseball cap, and Bucky would be rushing to meet Clint and not looking where he's going, and then next thing six feet of pure muscle is helping him to his feet and offering to buy him coffee to make up for it, even thought its totally, completely, Bucky's fault.

It's comfortable. Bucky has lived with it so long that Steve fantasies are almost like shrugging on an old sweater; warming and inviting, and feeling a little bit like home. Bucky liked Steve from the beginning, after all. He used to watch _Take Two_ back in the day, and he even remembers the episode where a skinny shrimp of a boy about his age met Max, the main character, and never left. Max had dark hair, classically handsome and clearly hired to appeal to the tween girls, but Bucky's eyes had slipped to that little blonde boy and somehow never quite let go; through kids TV, bit-parts in hospital dramas, earnest secondary roles in worthy literature adaptations and now – well, Bucky feels something almost like pride when he sees Steve adorning the poster of the latest Hollywood blockbuster, bulked up and 100% action hero material. His boy's come a long way in ten years. Even if all the tabloids and the giggling girls in every film screening that proclaim their love for him sometimes grates. Bucky always liked Steve. Fifty pounds of muscle haven’t changed anything, and he knows he could revert back to that skinny guy in the indie films or the laughable soap dramas and he'd still watch everything Steve did.

“Yo Barnes!”

He looks up.

“Wow, you were zoned out man.” Across from him is Clint. Bucky is taking his break at the bakery, and Clint always seems to manage to turn up at just the right time to score a free piece of cake. Luckily, Jane seems to think he's funny, plus 'his arms attract customers, Bucky, seriously', so she looks the other way when he pilfers an extra lemon slice and slides it across the table. “Awesome, thanks dude,” Clint says around his first mouthful.

“Ugh, why am I friends with you,” Bucky mutters. He flips the magazine on his lap closed, resting one hand on it; there's a new article on Steve and he's not reading it while there are distractions around.

“Because I saved you from having to work with Natasha in chem class.”

“Natasha actually works in chem class, you don't,” he points out. “Natasha would have been a better lab partner.”

Clint shakes his hand, then licks his fingers to catch the last few pastry crumbs. “Man, tell Jane she's the best. But no, you are legitimately going to love me after I've given you my news, so forget about Natasha.”

“I'm not the one who brought her up.” He's noticed that recently. More and more of his conversations – mostly those he has with Clint – seem to stray onto the red bombshell in their shared chemistry class, but Clint seems honestly clueless that he's doing it.

“Whatever. Sit down, because this is big.”

“I am sitting down,” he rolls his eyes, and takes a gulp of coffee.

“And put that down,” Clint adds, waving at the mug. Bucky raises an eyebrow, but Clint just looks at him pointedly. He sighs, and sets it on the table. Its only dregs left anyway.

“Alright, so what's the big news?”

“I...” Clint pauses for effect, and Bucky stifles the urge to slap him upside the head. “Have got you tickets.” He grins like a searchlight switched on, and Bucky double-takes – Clint's attractive, okay, but he's not his type, and they're better as friends.

“Tickets,” he repeats dumbly, when the shine has worn down a little and Clint is just Clint again. “Cinema? Did you get me tickets to see _Reload_?”

Clint shakes his head, and Bucky's smile dips slightly. “Like you haven't already seen the new Steve Rogers film,” Clint adds. Bucky shrugs. He's actually seen it twice, but he doesn’t get paid for another week and he'd have liked a third viewing. 

“So what then? Not to that art show you were banging on about, you know that's not my-”

“I was only talking about that so Natasha would think I was sophisticated-”

“Oh _really?”_

“-As if I'd try and drag you along. No.” Clint seems determined to ignore the dig about their red-headed science companion so Bucky lets it drop. Clint digs around in his bag for a second and then pulls out two tickets. He hands them to Bucky.

“Comic-Con,” he reads, then swallows his tongue, coughing. “Meet and greet with _Steve Rogers_?!”

“I said you'd love me-”

Bucky cuts him off with a hug that literally squeezes the air out of him. “How did you- these must have been so exp- I mean, why, do you even like-” He can't quite form a sentence.

“Okay dude, chill,” Clint says, disentangling himself and taking a gulp of air. “It's not a candlelit dinner for two, just a chance to shake his hand and gush over him for a few minutes. I'll be there to hold you up if your legs give out.”

Because Clint doesn’t really get it. Comic-Con has never been one of his fantasies; the tickets are almost impossible to get, and he's always thought it'd be an accidental bumping into each other. But this isn't a fantasy. The tickets are in his hand, with a date of just five days away, and Bucky is actually going to meet Steven G. Rogers.


	2. Chapter 2

The days pass like treacle and lightning, all at once. Bucky has washed his favourite clothes, then gone shopping for new ones, then ironed his old faithfuls, then considered a fan t-shirt online – they're making pretty cool  _Reload_ merchandise – then rejected it as desperately uncool, then casually visited Clint and hunted through his wardrobe while he was paying the take-out guy and – he's shattered. 

Clint sits him forcefully down on the sofa, anchoring him with a plate of chow mein. “Eat. And stop freaking out man, it doesn’t matter what you wear.”

It does though, of course it does, he has to look cool, but effortless -

“Wear your black jeans,” Clint says, washing a mouthful of Chinese down with beer. “And that long-sleeved blue shirt you've got, but roll up the arms. Wear your hair up but with a few bits falling out.”

Bucky blinks at Clint.

“What?” Clint shrugs. “You look hot in that outfit, and I'm assuming that's what all this is about.”

“How do you know what I look hot in?” Because Clint is definitely, 100% straight. Bucky can't have missed that. 

“I have good eyesight,” Clint drawls. “And half-way decent hearing. You wore that to lectures that one time you didn't come home after the club, and those three girls a few rows back could not stop giggling about it.”

“Oh.” He shovels in a few mouthfuls of food. He is hungry, he realises. “Maybe instead I should-”

“No. Black jeans, blue shirt, hair up. And shut up.” Clint switches on the television and settles on a cop procedural from a few years back. Bucky curls up and tucks into his plate, wondering if this is one of the episodes Steve shows up in.

 

–

Bucky paces his apartment nervously. He's fully dressed, done up in the outfit Clint suggested, but it's still only seven in the morning and the convention doesn’t open for another two hours. With their tickets, they even get to skip the line, so there's no point leaving for Clint's for at least another forty-five minutes and that's building in a good bank of time for traffic. 

He wanders into the kitchen and opens the fridge. He hasn't eaten, but everything inside makes his stomach roll. This is the day. 

His phone buzzes, and he grabs it. His hands are actually shaking a bit. He shakes his head as he presses the button; he needs to calm the fuck down or he actually is going to need Clint to hold him up later.

“Dude, I am so sorry.”

His first thought is that the tickets are fake. Of course they are. Clint can motor mouth the best of them, but no one talks a family friend into giving away such valuable tickets. It was all a practical joke. It wasn't very funny, but maybe one day he'll be able to fake a laugh-

“Bucky, are you there?”

He clears his throat. “Yes,” he answers shortly.

“Good, you haven't fainted yet.” There's a hint of amusement in Clint's voice, and Bucky stifles his growing anger. He doesn’t have many friends, and Clint probably thought this was just a funny little prank. It was Bucky that took it too far – who reacted too strongly and meant Clint couldn't back out – Clint didn't know the extent of... well, this. “I... I'm going to have to bail on today, man. I'm _so_ sorry, but I just – well, okay, so Natasha asked me out and I couldn’t turn her down, I mean have you-”

Bucky's mind just about catches up with Clint's babbling. “You have a date?”

“With Natasha.”

“So the tickets are real?”

Clint laughs, and it sounds free down the phone. He must be walking on clouds because she said yes. “Of course they are, what, you think I was pranking you?” There's a beat of silence too long. “You did. Shit. Well I'm not, good news! Hooray. But you're going to have to meet the big man on your own, because I ain't turning the love of my life down for yours-

“Of course, no that's fine,” Bucky stutters out.

“You have both tickets, right? You could probably tout the other one on the door or something. Use the money for whatever – get yourself some merch, or a photo with Rogers or whatever.”

“Uh huh.” His brain still isn't quite in gear. It's too early, he's working on about three hours sleep and his left hand will not stop shaking.

“Are you sure you're okay? Because, I could probably reschedule-” That shakes him out of it. Because he is not a baby, and he is not going to ruin his best friend's chances with the girl he's been pining over for months. Natasha doesn’t seem the type to give second chances, or to forgive being turned down for a comic book convention. 

“No, really, I'm fine. Sorry, it's just, uh, early,” he laughs, and it sounds almost normal. “You go dude, romance her.”

“It's just lunch in the park-”

“Hit it out of the park!” He swung a little too far into hyper, and reins it back. “You better believe I'm going to spend all your ticket money on merchandise. The least you deserve for letting me down.”

Clint laughs. “Get me a button or something,” he asks. “And a picture of you with the great Steve Rogers, so you can remind yourself I am an awesome friend, because I got you those tickets in the first place.”

“Will do. And you wear your blue jeans with a white t-shirt and the plaid button down.” The silence is questioning, and he rolls his eyes. “The lumberjack look kind of works for you,” he mutters, hanging up as Clint starts crowing down the line.

So, he's going alone. That's fine, but with no need to swing by Clint's place he still has half an hour before he can leave. He wanders out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. If no one is going with him...

Before he can change his mind, he ducks under the sink and pulls out the eye-liner his sister left behind a couple of years ago. He sweeps it over his eyelids, stepping back to admire the effect. He doesn't wear it often, doesn’t think Clint has ever even seen him in it – but he likes the way it makes him look just a little bit dangerous. There isn't a time he's worn it when he hasn't ended up in someone else's bed, after all. Maybe it'll work this time too.

 

–

The lines are already huge by the time he reaches the conference centre. He joins the back of it, then sidles up to another guy on his own. The guy looks him up and down, and edges back ever so slightly, as if his modesty might be in danger. 

“I've got a queue-jump ticket,” Bucky explains in an undertone. “Yours for $200.”

“You can get in trouble for selling on tickets.”

“You want it or not?” The guys eyes flick from side to side, then up at the line in front of them, stretching and twisting round and round until it eventually reaches the doors. Then he reaches for his wallet. 

“Who am I?”

Bucky checks the cash, then the ticket before handing it over. “Phil Coulson.”

“And you are?”

“Nick Fury,” he answers, leading the way to the front of the queue. A short girl with incredibly big eyes smiles as she stamps their hands and rips their tickets, and then they're in.

Phil Coulson – or whoever he was – turns out to be a Batman fan. Bucky isn't exactly sad that it means they head in opposite directions as soon as they reach the exhibition hall. He checks his watch, bobbing nervously. Two hours until meet time. He guesses he should take a look around. 

 

–

It's all a little overwhelming, he thinks later, as he leans against a wall and sips an overpriced coke. People are dressed in costume  _everywhere_ – a fan shirt would not have looked out of place after all – and the booths cater to every possible type of desire. Bucky's not a great comic geek, so he'd taken a speedy turn around some of the nearest aisles before focusing exclusively on the  _Reload_ area. He'd got that fan shirt he'd been eyeing up online, plus a button for Clint and a few bits and bobs, and the $200 was more than gone. This place is pricey. He's not upset though; he's got all the  _Reload_ stuff he wanted, and it's bound to become collectible one day. It's Steve's first comic book movie, but he'd been so good, it can't be the last.

“We should get going if we want to get good seats at the panel,” he overhears, as two girls dressed as Miranda from _Reload_ scurry past. He checks his watch, but there's still a good half an hour before it's due to start. He glances back at the mayhem that is the main hall, and slips after the girls.

Turns out, they were right. He's caught them up by the time they all reach the room, and they smile at him as they take the last set of two seats together. He grins back, slipping into one of the few remaining seats. It's a decent one; off to one side, but only a few rows back.

He reads his program while the rest of the seats get taken, and then the standing room fills up too. Before he knows it, the panel is filing out in line, and there he is. Short blonde hair, square jaw, blue eyes. The cheering starts and they all sit down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that I have never been to a convention, so anything to do with Comic-con in this story is more than a little made up! Sorry if I've got anything really wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally meets Steve!

“Great panel, huh?” Its one of the Mirandas; the slightly shorter one. They've managed to get in line for the meet and greet right behind him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Um, I wasn't expecting all the whooping though.” The audience had been _loud_ , but the actors hadn't seemed to mind, joking and laughing along with the crowd. Bucky had seen Steve crack up – for real, not acting or through a TV screen. His stomach still feels warm.

“First time at a con?” asks the other Miranda. He nods. “It's kind of overwhelming at first, but then you get used to it and they're the best fun. Shannon, by the way,” she adds, before gesturing to her friend. “This is Karin.”

“Nice to meet you both,” he shakes their hands, and they look kind of delighted at his formality, so he smirks as well. Karin blushes. “Bucky.”

“Nice name,” grins Shannon. “Hey,” she adds, turning to her friend, “do you think we can get Melissa to take a picture with us?” Before Bucky knows it, they've turned away and are gossiping excitedly about the actress who plays Miranda, but that's fine with him. The line is slowly going down, and now the panel are in sight; he'd much rather use this time to memorise Steve's face than chat up cosplayers he has no real interest in.

And what a face. He'd kind of thought maybe it'd be a slight disappointment, but he's not sure the make-up crews and magazine airbrushers actually have anything to do when it comes to Steve Rogers.

“Hey, I'm Mark.” Bucky looks up. The line has progressed, and he's standing right in front of the actor that plays Justice. 

“Hey,” he manages back. It's not Mark's fault he's not Steve Rogers, after all. “I loved the back-story you brought to the role,” he adds.

“You a comic fan?” Mark asks, as he scrawls his signature across Bucky's program.

“Not really,” he confesses with a grin. “But everyone loves a well-rounded character right?”

“Absolutely!” Mark grins, rows of white teeth that totally suit a Hollywood actor but that were kind of out of place on the back streets kid he was playing. Bucky smiles back; the queue is moving along anyway.

Its the director next, then the actress playing Miranda, then the villain – but Bucky can't even remember the character's name, let alone the actor's, because next in the queue is Steve and he's literally right there. Then the girl to his left steps away and -

“Hi.” The voice is deep, and so familiar from all the films, and its directed at Bucky. And Bucky freezes. “You enjoy the film?”

He just stands there. His brain is firing a million neurons a second but its all getting lost in tangle and somehow nothing he tells it to do is making its way out to the real world. 

“I loved working on it.” Bless him, Bucky thinks frantically. He's stuck with a robot and he's still making conversation. “So fun to get all those special effects, you know? Green screens; you feel like an idiot but they're still _so_ cool.” He's smiling. God, he's _smiling_. “Between you and me-” _Really?_ Bucky thinks frantically, as Steve leans forward a little, “I'd love to do more comic book movies.” Bucky knows, he knows Steve would be perfect for that, and somehow a direction gets through and he nods, frantically. “So you want an autograph or something?” Bucky still has his program in his hand, and Steve reaches for it. 

“No,” Bucky chokes, pulling it back. Steve looks confused, and Bucky flounders, manages to reach the shirt in his carrier bag and holds it out awkwardly, teeth glued together again.

“This?” Steve confirms, and Bucky just nods. “So who am I making it out to?” Oh god. He's looking right at him from underneath his eyelashes, and a look like that shouldn't be allowed in a crowded room. Who indeed?

“His name's Bucky,” says a voice to his right. One of the Mirandas, but god knows which one.

“Bucky,” Steve repeats, a ghost of a smile around his lips as he carefully writes across the shirt. “Cool name, man.”

And then its over. He's clutching the shirt between his hands and the security guy is guiding him to the way out, and he's back in the crowds of the main hall. 

“You okay?” There's a hand on his arm and he twists. Karin. 

“Yeah,” he manages. 

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” he twitches out a smile, and apparently that's enough. The girls smile at him in unison and melt back into the crowd, but Bucky can't face going back into that. He slips along the wall and out through the door. There's no line now, he thinks idly. Somehow they got everyone in. He doesn't really remember the trip home.

 

–

He's sitting on his couch when the phone rings. He's been there a while.

“Hey,” he answers, after seeing Clint's name pop up.

“Yo,” there's a slight pause. “I was expecting something a bit more excited, if I'm honest. Aren't you riding the post-meet adrenaline high or something?”

“Or something, I guess.” He's not really in the mood for this.

“What did you do?” And yeah, Clint knows him too well. Knows that every time he gets in one of his funks, he's obsessing about something he's done. 

“Nothing.” It's not untrue.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Clint says, warningly.

“Nothing, really. Just – well I kind of froze up, you know. Couldn't – couldn't say anything to him.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I said 'no'.”

“Well, that's something.” It's painfully obvious how hard Clint is trying not to take the piss right now, so Bucky must sound as pathetic as he feels. Clint's actually trying to be _supportive_. “I bet it happens all the time, man. He'll be used to it.”

It's probably true, but Clint doesn't know that Bucky had been playing this very scenario out in his head all week and it had gone very differently. Bucky had been smooth. He'd been funny. He'd had insightful questions to ask about the role; Steve would have been impressed at how much attention he'd paid. Because Bucky didn't just see Steve as the superhero beefcake; he saw Steve. 

“Yeah, I know.” He pulls himself together, literally wrapping the arm not holding the phone around his middle. His fingers play in the fabric of the _Reload_ shirt. “So, hey – how was the date?”

It's all it takes to set Clint off, and he runs with it for the next twenty minutes until his oven timer beeps. “Gotta go, man – you're alright, yeah?”

“Yeah,” laughs Bucky. He's feeling more normal. But then he hangs up the phone and the afternoon starts playing through his mind again. Ugh. It's late enough. He'll just go to bed.

 

–

He wakes up the next day with a cold. Damn conventions.

 

–

“You're not still stewing about that thing with Rogers, are you?” It's Tuesday. It's been just over a week since the convention and Bucky wants to say no; he was being stupid, it must happen all the time, he's over it. But Clint has some sort of inbuilt lie detector when he's not being distracted by Natasha, and the laser focused eyesight is trained on Bucky right now. 

“I'm fine,” he tries anyway.

“Bullshit.” Clint hands over a sheaf of paper; its his notes from the Chem lecture. “If you were fine you'd have taken your own damn notes.” 

Bucky sighs, and accepts them, because he doesn’t have any idea of what was covered in the last hour and he does need to pass this class. “I know its stupid,” he admits, tucking the papers into his bag.

Clint grins. “Maybe its looove,” he croons. Bucky hits him upside the head. “Harsh man. Especially when I have another idea.”

“Oh god,” Bucky groans. “I don't need your plans.”

“Yes you do, its you that's screwing up the execution; nothing to do with the quality of the plans themselves.”

“So what, we go out, get rolling drunk, and find me a Steve lookalike?” It's not like he's tried that before, after all. Honestly.

Clint cocks his head. “No, not yet.”

“I was kidding-”

“Sure.” Clint leads them down the corridor and out onto the quad. Bucky remembers briefly his bump-into-student-Steve fantasy, then shakes his head. “But my idea is better, promise. Rogers' new movie is filming down town tomorrow, and I know you don't have class.”

It's true; the two of them purposefully organised their class schedule so they had Wednesdays off; both of them like the whole two-day week thing. Normally Bucky would spend the day working at Jane's, but he's still a little snuffly from that damn convention cold and Jane doesn’t let any of them work unless they're totally disease-free. Something about a bad experience with a former employee sneezing on the cupcakes. Bucky hadn't delved further, just took the forty dollars sick pay.

“I don't know,” he hedges. 

“I'm coming with you this time. You obviously need a wingman.”

Its not like it'll be like the convention, after all. Actors don't talk to the fans that come to watch the filming; they're too busy working for that. He can just look, hang out with Clint, and then go home with slightly better memories for 'that time he saw Steve'. 

“Why do you even want to?”

Clint shrugs. “It could be cool to see them filming. Besides, Nat's away until Monday and I heard his co-star for this film is Claire Lacey.”

“Yeah, it is,” Bucky confirms. 

“Should have known you'd know that.” Clint claps him on the shoulder as they get to the junction where they part ways. “I'll come over at ten tomorrow.”

The lights change and Clint darts away. “Bring breakfast!” yells Bucky.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky runs a hand through his hair and glances at his reflection in the mirror. He looks okay, he decides. He looks decent for a day hanging out with a friend.

There's a knock on his door, and he swings it open to see Clint. Surprisingly, he's listened to Bucky. He has two coffees in one hand and a bakery bag in the other. “Coffee,” he states. Bucky takes a cup. “Muffin,” he adds, and Bucky takes the bag. Then he saunters in, dropping his own breakfast on Bucky's hob and lifting himself up to sit on the counter. “You're not wearing that.”

Bucky glances down at himself. He's wearing a green and black striped shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. It's fine. “Yes I am.”

Clint groans and slithers off the counter, snatching up his coffee cup and pushing his way into Bucky's bedroom. “No, you're not,” he replies, once he's head and shoulders deep in Bucky's closet.

“I thought we established the other week your only knowledge of what I should wear comes from our classmates.”

“Exactly,” he re-emerges to take a gulp of coffee. “And no one ever giggled over you in that shirt.”

“No offence but I'm going out with you, Clint, I'm not exactly dressing to impress.”

“But lover boy will be there, so you need to look your best.” Bucky groans, lets himself fall back onto the bed. Its tempting to kick Clint out and just go back to sleep. 

“He'll be about fifty metres away, at least. He's not going to be looking at me.”

“There.” Clint flings a shirt in his direction. Bucky holds it up; he'd forgotten he even had this. It must have been pushed right to the back., but looking at the mess Clint's made, that's exactly where he's been. “Shirt off, shirt on. I ain't looking.”

Bucky gives up, strips and pulls the shirt on. He's bulked up a little bit since he last wore this. The blue cotton stretches across his chest a bit. “It's too-”

“It's perfect,” Clint announces, in a tone that brokers no argument. He shoves a darker pair of jeans at Bucky - “I've heard comments when you've been wearing these, seriously” - then throws his black boots on top. “You still got that leather jacket from your bad boy phase?” 

Bucky stares at him. That had been first year, when he was still kind of acting out against anything and everything. He'd thought wearing leather made him tough. He hadn't known Clint then, and he hasn't worn it since. “Uh, yeah?”

“That too then. And hurry up, I didn't get up early to spend the whole day in your apartment.”

 

–

By the time they make it to the backstreet where the filming is happening, there's already a crowd of people waiting but no sign of any action. Clint ducks through the crowd like he's at a gig, reaching back and yanking Bucky along when he doesn't follow. They make it to the front just as a tech crew swarms into the street and starts setting up.

It's a long wait, but luckily its dry and not too chilly. His jacket – weird as the leather feels against his skin again – keeps him warm enough. Finally, a trailer nearby opens and yep – that's Steve. Closely followed by Claire Lacey. He can feel Clint bob on his toes next to him, but shuts him out.

The filming actually is interesting. It's slow, sure; between each take there's a wait while the tech crew re-set the area (and the glamour of the film industry is certainly tarnished by watching several of them sweep the street each time, with big brooms), but its cool watching the acting in action. Clint keeps pointing out things he misses, and if Bucky squints, he can just about catch them – the way Steve's hand clenches in one scene while his face is nothing but open and happy. “Guess there's trouble in that paradise,” Clint whispers, gesturing at Steve and Claire (as Brian and Mary) as they walk down the street. “Spoilers!”

Eventually, the director calls cut a final time and Steve and Claire disappear back into the trailer. The tech crew are back, but now they're packing equipment into heavy black boxes rather than re-setting. Some of the crowd starts to fade away.

“So, what now?” asks Bucky. He's pretty hungry; the muffin was hours ago. 

“Sushi?” Clint asks brightly, laughing at Bucky's scrunched face. “I'm going to break you on that eventually. Ok, but if we're not doing raw fish I want noodles.”

“Noodles I can do.” There's a good place a few streets away from here actually, but the quickest way would be right across the set and they probably can't do that. Can they?

“Wait,” Clint stills him with a hand on his arm. “The trailer doorknob just moved.”

Okay, that's ridiculous. “Clint, your eyesight is not  _that_ g-” But then the door swings open, and Steve is emerging, out of costume now and dressed in blue jeans and a really tight shirt. Bucky stops. His mouth may be slightly open, but it actually looks as if Steve is heading right for them.

“Close your mouth,” hisses Clint, and Bucky snaps it shut as Steve reaches a gaggle of girls a few metres to their right. He smiles, signs autographs and even leans in for a few selfies. 

“Thanks for coming out, all of you,” he says, moving on. And then he's in front of Clint and Bucky. “Hey,” he grins warmly, signing the scrap of paper Clint has produced from one of his many pockets. Then he double-takes. “Uh, Bucky right?”

He knows his name. How is that even possible, how does  _Steve Rogers_ know his name-

“Yep, this is Bucky,” Clint claps a hand on his back, and the impact knocks him out of it, as it was no doubt meant to do. 

“Yeah,” he replies, even managing a smile.

“Right, I thought I recognised you. Got another shirt to sign?” Steve is – he's effervescent, is what it is. Bucky could look at him all day, but he's talking to him, and he has to keep it together. Clint is digging a finger into his back and he focuses on the pinpoint of pressure.

“Ah, not on me,” he tries to joke. 

“What about that one?” Steve points at his chest, and Bucky's mouth drops open again. 

“Um, ok.”

And Steve actually takes his marker pen and leans over the barrier. “Anywhere?” he asks, low and husky. Bucky just nods, and can't help twitching as Steve signs his name over his stomach. “Nice jacket,” he adds, as he leans back and recaps the pen.

“Thanks.” Steve nods, smiles at Clint, and then turns away. And Bucky could watch him leave all day. Clint breaks the silence.

“It's a good job I'm not your boyfriend, because I'd have been very uncomfortable with that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been a few days! There is an epilogue as well, which was originally meant to be part of this chapter, but I've decided I don't like it and am now rewriting it. With RL getting in the way its unfortunately taking a while. So in the meantime, here's the non-epilogue part of the chapter :)

Clint rags him about it for the rest of the week, but it was  _nothing_ , really. Okay, it had gone marginally better than the previous meeting – Bucky didn't want to crawl into a hole and  _die_ when he thought about it – but that didn't mean anything. Bucky had still been star-struck and completely uncool, and Steve was just being nice about it. That's it.

Luckily, Natasha returns from wherever she's been, and he starts seeing considerably less of Clint. He throws himself into school instead, catching up on everything he's not been learning in the past few weeks while he obsessed.

And if he keeps an eye on his google alerts for 'Steve Rogers'... well, he's still a fan.

“A caramel latte for Sonia and a venti cappuccino for Lauren,” he calls. Two girls come over and take the drinks, then head back to their table. There are no customers waiting, so he does a round of the tables, collecting empties and wiping up crumbs.

“Barnes,” calls Jane, and he dutifully heads back to the counter. “All better then?”

“Yep, no viruses in this body,” he quips. “Thanks for the sick pay.”

“I'd rather pay sick pay and not get my customers ill, so thank you for not coming in. We're nearly out of brownies, can you cut up the tray that's in the back?”

“Sure thing,” he says, depositing the empty cups. Jane's strict, but she's a good boss, he thinks, as he heads into the back. It feels good to be back at work, too. Normal, and after the whirlwind stress of the last couple of weeks, there's something soothing about making coffee and smiling at strangers. He finds the brownies and cuts them, arranging them on a tray and bringing them back out. Jane tips her head towards a tall man waiting to be served. 

“I've got paperwork to do. Could you?”

He doesn’t answer, just strides up to the counter and pastes on a toothy smile. The douche is wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses indoors – on a cloudy day, no less – but he's a professional.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“Coffee?” 

Has the guy not been in a coffee shop in the last twenty years? No one asks for coffee any more. 

“Sure,” he replies, smile still in place. “What kind would you like? We've got latte, cappuccino, americano-”

“Just – normal?”

“That'll be the americano,” he says, taking pity. “How about size? Let me guess – normal?”

The guy smiles, dipping his head slightly, and there's something magnetic about it. Maybe enough to take the edge off the douchey sunglasses, but not completely cancel them out. “Sounds good.”

Bucky grabs a medium cup, scrawls an A on it and, “what should I put on it?”

“What, like whipped cream?”

“Ew, dude, no,” he maybe shouldn't have said that, but he has, so he's gonna have to roll with it. Style it out. “I can't let you do something so heinous to Jane's coffee. But I could put a side of cream on one of the cakes, and promise to look away if you add it later?” The guy just looks at him, at least Bucky thinks he does, its hard to tell – but then luckily bursts out laughing. 

“No, I don't want cream, but thanks. What cake would you recommend?”

Bucky puts the cup down; there's no queue, and he can remember that this drink is for that guy without writing a name on it like he works in Starbucks. “My friend swears by the lemon slices. He'd eat the entire stock if I let him.”

“But what about you?”

“Me?” Now he's sure the guy is looking straight at him, not even down at the array of sweet treats between them. “I like the cookies,” he adds, gesturing to the pile just to his left. They're the size of side plates, but so good. “A safe choice, perhaps, but I haven't had better than Jane's.”

“Okay,” the guy smiles. “Two cookies then.”

Really? One is a pretty decent snack, two is a meal – but then the guy is built like some sort of body builder, so maybe he can handle it. He slides the cookies onto a plate, and sets the coffee machine going. 

“Oh, uh – two plates,” the guy stutters, as Bucky brings over his coffee.

“Sorry, you're meeting someone – of course. I'll just get that – milk and sugar are over at the station over there-”

“I'm not meeting anyone.”

Okay, kind of weird, but okay. So the guy likes two plates. He fetches another and slides the top cookie over onto it. Then pushes both to the other side of the counter. “That'll be five dollars ninety.”

The guy hands over a ten dollar bill, then deposits his change in the jar next to the till. Bucky smiles to thank him – that's a pretty decent tip – but the guy still just stands there. It's starting to get awkward.

“Uh,” starts Bucky. “Can I get you something else?” Maybe he needs the toilet but doesn’t want to ask where it is. He could be shy. 

“Bucky,” the guy hesitates. Bucky looks down at his shirt automatically, but there's no name tag there because he doesn’t work at Starbucks any more. And they'd made him wear James anyway, because they already had one. Which means – how did this guy...?

And then he takes the sunglasses off, and Bucky has been so stupid. His mouth drops open, but he can hear Clint in the back of his mind and snaps it shut again. 

“Did you want to get coffee with me? I already bought you a cookie, but you can just eat it behind the counter if you – I mean, I shouldn't have assumed...” he trails off and Bucky still can't make him say anything. Because that sounded a lot like his long-time crush, superhero action star Steve Rogers, asked him to get coffee. And that doesn’t happen. So he does nothing. He can't react to figments of his imagination, that would make people think he was insane, and that's the kind of secret that needs to be kept.

“Right, sorry. I'll just – just go.”

And the figment turns, and what the hell, Bucky could watch that ass all day but not when its leaving because he hasn't managed to unstick his mouth.

“Wait!” he calls. He rushes to the coffee machine, fixes himself an Americano and practically vaults the counter. “Yes to coffee. I got myself one, as you were so kind to get the cookies.”

And Steve grins. “I love your voice. I don't get to hear it enough.”

“Is that why you pretended-”

“Don't get him started, he'll never shut up.” It's Jane, emerging from the back room. “Go on Bucky, I'll mind the counter. You're due a break anyway.”

They take a table in the corner, out of the eye line of Jane specifically, and as many customers as they can. Steve hasn't taken his baseball cap off, and it seems no one else has yet twigged exactly who he is. “So,” Steve starts.

“So,” agrees Bucky, taking a sip of too-hot coffee for something to do.

“No eyeliner or leather this week?”

“It's not exactly a work look. I save that for the weekends.”

“I like the work look too. But that means I'm going to have to see you next weekend as well.”

Bucky chokes on air – seriously, he's not even drinking coffee – and nods as smoothly as he can. “That could be arranged,” he says slyly when he regains oxygen. 

Steve tips his head back and laughs, and its like at the panel, but this time its because of him. Steve snorts, and Bucky can't help but join in. After all, what the hell?


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has been so long! Hope its worth it; thank you everyone who has commented, asked for more, kudos-ed or just plain read this :)

“I can't believe we're back here,” says Bucky as a guy in a suit ushers the two of them through a side door. The corridor they end up in could be anywhere. “This side of the curtain doesn't have quite the glamour I was expecting,” he adds.

“I keep telling you there's nothing glamorous about acting,” chides Steve.

“And I refuse to accept it,” Bucky agrees. “This building is just having an off day. Usually it'd be bedecked floor to ceiling in sparkles. Or maybe you called ahead and told them to dumb it down, just so you could win this argument.”

“You caught me-”

“Mr Rogers!” A woman rounds the corner ahead of them. Her hair is neat and her make-up minimal; she wearing a trouser suit and flats. Bucky immediately approves. No one should attend a convention in heels, in his book. “Here's your pass,” she hands Steve a lanyard, before passing one on to Bucky as well. He notes his doesn't have the silver sheen to it. “Mr Barnes, this will give you access to the panels but you'll need to be accompanied when entering the backstage area. Either Mr Rogers, if he's around, or show your pass to one of the security personnel.”

She turns and starts walking, and they follow her through a maze of grey back corridors that all look the same. Eventually, she stops. “This is the green room,” she states, with a gesture of her hand to the left, “and this is the door to your panel. You'll be needed at 1300, Mr Rogers.” She looks between the two of them for a few moments. “Mr Barnes, if you'd like to explore the convention, I can walk you out?”

He understands a dismissal when he hears it, and leans up to peck Steve on the cheek before turning back to her. “Lead me to the madness.”

 

-

It is just as a remembers it; loud and busy and oh so overwhelming. He takes a deep breath and dives in. A cursory glide around the comics section – pausing at the Fantastic Four stand for a while; he always knew Steve would play more than one superhero – before he moves onto the _Reload 2: Reloaded_ section. He's buying two t-shirts, one with just Steve's face on it, and a button for Clint, when he hears a familiar voice talking to the stall vendor next door. 

“Karin?” He asks, not really expecting it to be her. But it is, underneath the Miranda costume again ( _what does she look like in real life?_ he wonders), and she grins in recognition. 

“Bucky, right?”

“Yeah, wow. I can't believe we bumped into each other.”

“I know, this place is so huge! How long has it been?”

“Five years.” Almost to the day, in fact, making it just a couple of months short of his and Steve's five year anniversary. He has plans. “Is your friend here; Sharon?” He doesn't think that's right, but while he can remember green eyes and the shape of her nose underneath that Miranda wig – how, he's not sure – the name doesn't sit right on her tongue. 

“Shannon,” Karin corrects, and he mentally kicks himself. “No, she's not so into -” she waves a hand around - “this, any more. She got a new job, didn't want her boss to find out, stopped coming along to fan events, you know.” She talks as if it happens all the time, and Bucky nods as if he does know, even though he's never really been part of “the fan community” that people at conventions seem to know so well. “Are you headed to the _Reload_ panel again?”

“Sure,” he replies, and they wander through the stalls together over to the panel room. The previous session is just letting out, but there's already a long queue and they join the end. Filing in, they end up about halfway back, right on one end of the row. Bucky lets Karin take the inside seat, with a slightly better view.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the _Reload 2: Reloaded_ panel. I hope you're all excited,” says the chair over a microphone as the panel enters. “We've got the usual suspects here with us today, so please welcome; Mark Travis, Selena Trigiani, Claire Lacey, Melanie Andrews and, of course, Steve Rogers!”

He sees Steve's eyes scanning the crowd, and blushes when they land on him with a smile. Karin grabs his arms and hisses, “ _he's looking right at us!”_

“So they first question I have to ask – and I'm asking it so we can get it out of the way and move on to some more interesting topics – this is the first superhero film by a female director. The first instalment by Joe Small was well received, but he wasn't asked back after his recent string of flops. Melanie, were you nervous about taking over a franchise half-way through? Have you had any backlash over the fact that you're a woman?”

It's not the first panel on the film Bucky's attended – if he wants to see Steve while he's promoting a movie he kind of has to follow him around the press route – and he's heard variations on this question a million times. He tunes it out and watches Steve instead, who's interest face is much better than his own. 

So different from last time, this panel seems to drag; he's heard the questions, he's met the people, and there's nothing really new being revealed. The audience still laps it up, but he heard all the funny stories first-hand on the day they happened; Steve's husky voice down the phone last thing at night. His co-stars can't really compete in the telling. Instead, he divides his focus between Steve and Karin, who's practically vibrating with excitement in the seat next to him. 

“Now Steve,” says the announcer, and Bucky tears his grin from Karin back to the panel. “A little birdy told me you had a question yourself.”

Steve nods, and this is news to Bucky. What could he possibly have left to ask these people? He's been living in their pockets for months, surely he could have covered it at some point?

“Bucky,” Steve says, standing up and taking his mike with him,and oh wow. Okay. Karin's hand clutches his arm again as Steve rounds the table and walks down to their row, ignoring the hands reaching out as he passes. Steve stops next to them, and Karin's fingernails might be drawing blood now. It keeps him centred, just, as Steve drops down.

On one knee.

“Uh,” says Bucky.

“Buck,” starts Steve. “I can't imagine being with anyone but you. Tomorrow will be five year's since I first set eyes on you, and I think I knew even then that we were meant to be. So I'm sorry, because I know this is cheesy, but I couldn't think of anywhere better than where we first met.” He's blushing, and rooting in his pocket, and then he pulls out a small box. He opens it and holds it out; inside is a simple silver band. “Buck? Would – will, uh, will you marry me?”

For a moment he can't move, but then the stinging pain of Karin's fingernails recedes as she claps her hands over her mouth instead, and its like the floodgates open. He throws his arms around Steve's neck, buries his face in a shoulder. It smells like his fruity shower gel that Bucky has to buy at the chemist because the grocery store doesn't stock it. It smells like home. 

“Punk,” he whispers into an ear. “Of course I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> I had a thought the other day; Steve/Bucky fanvid to 'Blank Space'. Anyone? The whole 'nice to meet you / where you been,' and 'I've got a blank space baby / i'll write you name' and 'cos its gonna be forever / or its gonna go down in flames / you can tell me when its over / if the high was worth the pain' - surely all this is sooo Steve/Bucky pre and post winter soldier? If anyone has made such a video, point me that way! Stucky and Swifty = perfect combo :)


End file.
